


Sweet Insanity

by Zara_Zee



Series: The HellSpawn 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Action & Romance, Bikers, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Kink, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Organized Crime, Racist Language, Sexist Language, Swearing, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen gets kidnapped by a rival MC which doesn’t approve of Jared’s new membership equality policy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Insanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amberdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** _I have borrowed the names and faces of certain actors without their knowledge or approval. Said actors belong to themselves and I have merely cast them in my fiction. Not a word of this is true; I’ve just got them playing parts. Any family members mentioned are strictly OCs as I don’t personally like to cast non-actors in my fictional dramas._

The first thing Jensen thinks when the hood is pulled off his head is that Mitch Pileggi is a dead man walking, although he doesn’t know it yet, and probably won’t believe it ‘til it happens. The second thing he thinks is that Jared is going to give him so much shit for this.

They’re in a small warehouse.  One side is filled with tall shrink-wrapped pallets. The other side—the side where Jensen is standing with Pileggi and his goons—contains only a metal, rectangular work bench, the same insipid color as manila folders. It has a whole bunch of tools laid out neatly on top of it. Somehow, Jensen doubts that Pileggi is planning to treat him to a DIY workshop.

Having taken in his surrounds in the blink of an eye, Jensen turns to Pileggi and gives him his best pissed off look.

“You made me put my bike down,” he says. “Baby’s got fucking dents in her now. The paint job’s ruined. Do you have any idea how long it’s gonna take me to fix her up?”

The two goons who brought Jensen in watch for Pileggi’s reaction and then laugh on cue when he does. Mitch doesn’t have a weapon in hand and the goons are close enough behind Jensen that he’s confident he could take them both out before Mitch could draw his gun. Still. He’s curious. He wants to know what Pileggi’s play is here.

He watches as Pileggi strokes his short grey beard, sees the letters H A T E stencilled behind his knuckles in the greenish-black of a prison tattoo. 

“You know who I am,” Pileggi says.

It’s not a question, but Jensen answers as if it were, because he’s still trying to feel things out.

“Sure,” he says easily. “You’re Mitch Pileggi, President of the Bastard Sons MC, and while we’re on the subject, I’m dying to know why you picked that as your club’s name.”

Pileggi’s brow furrows and his eyes become a little more piggy. “Because we’re all bastards,” he says, in a tone that suggests Jensen is very, very stupid.

“Right,” Jensen nods. “But ‘bastards’ as in assholes or ‘bastards’ as in you’re all illegitimate?”

One of the goons prods him in the back with his gun. “Shut up,” he says. “Most all of us can read and write!”

Pileggi frowns. “Shut up, Bullseye.”

Jensen sniggers. Because really?  Bullseye?

“Anyway,” says Pileggi. “That ain’t the important part of the name. The important part is _sons_.”

“Ah,” Jensen says. “This is about our membership equality policy.”

“Girls can’t be members.” Pileggi says, as if he’s just announced something irrefutable like the Earth revolves around the sun or Jared Padalecki has a huge dick.

“Sure they can,” Jensen says.

“No,” Mitch says slowly, like he’s talking to a two year old. “Girls can be sweet-butts or old ladies,” he frowns. “And I guess they can have their own lesbo biker groups too, but those ain’t proper MCs.  You can’t have girls in HellSpawn and expect the club to be respected.”

“Sure we can,” Jensen says.

“No! You can’t!”

Jensen is a little surprised Pileggi doesn’t stamp his foot.

“Oh please,” Jensen rolls his eyes. “Y’all are so out of touch, it’s not funny. What’s your Club’s catchphrase? _No niggers, no fags, no spics, chinks or chicks_? Real enlightened bunch.”

Pileggi bristles. “Everybody has their place. Good luck to ‘em. Nothin’ wrong with us being honest about the kind of person we want in our club. That’s our choice. Freedom of speech. Free association. We ain’t doing anything that’s not in our country’s constitution!”

“Right.” If Jensen rolls his eyes any more they’re going to pop out of his head. “And you just want straight, white men in your club. Good for you. You don’t get to dictate to the rest of us.”

Pileggi scowls impressively. “MCs,” he begins, but Jensen cuts him off.

“MCs are allowed to move with the times if they want to. You do your thing, we’ll do ours. Freedom of speech. Free association. And all that other _constitutional_ stuff you’re so impressed by. Now are we done here?”

“We’re done talking,” Pileggi says. He nods and one of the goons grabs Jensen’s arms and pins them behind his back. Jensen considers smashing the back of his head into the guy’s nose, but with all of them focused on him the odds aren’t good that he can take them all out and that’s what he has to do, when he makes his move.

So Jensen allows Pileggi to punch him in the face.

It hurts like a sonofabitch too, because Mitch is wearing a silver skull ring on his right hand and it takes a chunk out of Jensen’s cheek.

Pileggi punches him in the gut next and then the face again. Jensen sags and moans and makes out like it’s hurting him a lot worse than it actually is.

“How’s this supposed to make us change our policies?” Jensen huffs around the next fist to his gut.

Pileggi motions to the goon who’s holding Jensen and the goon spins Jensen around. Pileggi tugs the back of his jeans down and makes a noise of disgust.

“He put a fucking tramp stamp on you and you still think you’re a real man?”

Jensen decides not to mention that Jared has a similar tattoo. It’s on his hip, which is as close to his dick as Jared would let Jensen get with a tattoo gun, and it proclaims him (and his dick…especially his dick) the property of JA.

The goon spins Jensen back around.

“What does that even mean,” Jensen says.  “A real man? You think _you’re_ one? A lotta people would say you’re nothing but lowlife scum.”

Predictably, Pileggi punches him again. Jensen’s favorite white Armani tee-shirt is now completely fucked; blood streaks all over it.

Jensen narrows his eyes. “Still don’t see what punching me is supposed to achieve.”

“Just teaching you your place,” Pileggi sneers.

Jensen huffs. “My place is at Jared Padalecki’s side. And in his bed. And in the shower. And up against the—”

Jensen’s head snaps hard right and he feels a tooth come loose, tastes the metallic tang of blood.

Mitch gets right up in Jensen’s face. “You’re gonna be staying with me for a while, Boy, and I’m gonna teach you some manners.”

Jensen snorts. “Good luck with that. My mama never managed it and she’s a traditional Southern Belle,” he frowns. “And what d’you mean I’m gonna be staying with you for a while?  In your fucking dreams, Asswipe.”

Pileggi’s breath smells of cigarettes and coffee and it makes Jensen realize just how much he’s craving both.

“I sent Padalecki an invitation,” Pileggi says, “to the first ever meeting of the One Percenter Association. He didn’t reply.”

Jensen can’t help laughing. “What’s the point being an outlaw if you’ve gotta have meetings and follow rules?”

Pileggi points a finger at him. “I ain’t talkin’ to you about it. You’re just a bitch.”

Jensen would _really_ like Pileggi to say that to either Rachel or Ruthie. Their responses would be satisfyingly brutal and just thinking about it makes Jensen grin.

Pileggi’s expression becomes uneasy at the sight of Jensen’s wide, vicious smile and he turns away from him. He takes a few steps toward the work bench and Jensen’s breath catches in his throat, but then Pileggi stop and pulls Jensen’s cell phone out of his pocket.

“Time for me to talk to your boss,” he says. “Tell him what he’s gotta do to get you back in one piece.”

Jensen’s eyebrows shoot up without his permission. He’s having trouble believing that Pileggi is actually this stupid. There’s got to be a catch? Something clever that Jensen is missing? He inclines his head and stares hard at the President of The Bastard Sons. Mitch Pileggi, Jensen decides, is definitely too stupid to live.

\--

Jared is doing his best to look interested and on top of things, but really it’s all blah, blah, blah to him. Besides, Crossroads has got it all in hand. He spent weeks working on this contract with HellSpawn’s lawyer, JP Stuart, and it’s as legally watertight as an agreement between two groups of criminals can get.

The Yakuza have been using HellSpawn as additional muscle since they first formed their alliance. Now they’re going to buy semi-automatics off them too.

Takamasa Hayashi signs his name with a flourish and passes the pen to Jared. The signing done, there’s an elaborate ceremony involving a cask of sake and a hammer, but in the end Jared gets to raise a glass of alcohol to his lips. The sake is crisp and dry and mostly flavorless. Jared would rather seal their deal with a glass of whiskey or a few beers, but the Yakuza are big on tradition and apparently it’s a Japanese tradition to celebrate the beginning of a new endeavour or the strengthening of a friendship with a _Kagami Biraki_ Ceremony.  

And thank you, Jim Beaver for that piece of information. Jared knows fuck all about cultural shit. JD’s old friend has been a real fucking help in making sure that Jared doesn’t shove his giant foot into his equally giant mouth and accidentally insult the Yakuza. He’s sure they’d get over it if he did, but still, he finds soothing wounded egos an annoying waste of his time. Jensen’s really good at smoothing ruffled feathers, when he wants to be. It’s part of his hustler arsenal, along with flirting and schmoozing.

Jared’s mind drifts back to this morning, when he’d had Jensen pinned and begging beneath him. Jensen’s knees had been beside his ears, his toes pointed at the headboard and Jared had pounded him but good, their fingers laced together and Jensen’s back arched. He’d been yowling like a cat in heat, pleading for harder, deeper, and Jared had delivered, if the smug, self-satisfied expression that Jensen had still been wearing when he left the house had been anything to go by.

“Now that is the smile of a well-satisfied man,” Hayashi says raising his glass to Jared.

Jared returns the smile and raises his own glass in salute.

“And where is Jensen today?” Hayashi asks. “I was surprised he didn’t join us.”

The Yakuza seem rather fond of Jensen. They appreciate his talent for violence and his ability to be ruthlessly, politely manipulative. Jensen is also slender with porcelain skin, huge green eyes and long eyelashes. As far as Japanese beauty ideals go, Jensen kind of nails it. The Yakuza who Jared has met so far all seem to have an innate appreciation for pretty things, and Jensen is definitely a pretty thing.

“Jensen had some other business to attend to today, but he’ll be joining us for dinner at the restaurant tonight.”

Almost as if Jared’s thoughts about him have managed to summon the man himself, Jared’s phone rings. He excuses himself to Hayashi the moment he sees Jensen’s number and steps aside to answer the call. Maybe Jensen’s meeting has finished up early. Maybe he’s on his way, or here already asking to be let in.

“Hey, babe,” he says.

“Hate to disappoint, Padalecki, but no.”

Jared straightens up, his whole body taut. “Who is this?”

“Mitch Pileggi, President of The Bastard Sons MC.”

“Why do you have Jensen’s phone?” Jared is having visions of bike wrecks, Jensen lying bloody on the road; Pileggi happening upon the scene and picking up Jensen’s cell phone to call Jared with the bad news.

“Oh, I don’t just have Jensen’s cell phone,” Pileggi says. “I have Jensen too.”

Jared feels himself become cold and still. Focused. “Why?”

“He’s my insurance. Collateral to make sure you make the time to attend the One Percenter meeting I’ve organized. The one where we’re gonna have a long talk about your fucked up idea that women can be members and men can be old ladies.”

Jared decides that he’ll break Pileggi’s neck with his bare hands, just so he can feel his pulse shudder to a stop.

“If you lay so much as a finger on him,” Jared says. His teeth are clenched, his fists balled and he’s pretty sure the casing on his cell phone just cracked. He can feel Hayashi’s eyes on him too.

“Oh I’ve laid more than a finger on him,” Pileggi says gleefully. “I’ve—”

The line goes quiet.

“Pileggi?” Jared says. “Mitch?” He thinks he hears Jensen’s voice in the background.

“I’m putting you on speaker phone,” Pileggi says and Jared hears fear in his voice.

“Hi Jared,” Jensen says.

He sounds remarkably chipper for someone who’s just been kidnapped.

“Hi,” Jared says cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Jensen says. “I got fucking kidnapped. They ran me off the fucking road; made me crash my bike. She’s got dents in her now and the paint job got completely fucked. Like, completely. I’m gonna have to—”

“Jensen!” Jared interrupts his rant. “What about you?”

“Eh, I got slapped around a bit, no big deal. I’m gonna need you to send Chad down though. I’ll text you the address.”

Jared frowns. “Chad?”

“Yeah, I need someone to take out some trash.”

“Some trash?”

“Yeah. Don’t need clean up, just trash removal.”

Jared hears the unmistakably sound of Jensen drawing back on a cigarette.

Jared frowns. “So…you’re in charge now?”

“From the moment Pileggi turned his back to call you. Now that it’s just the two of us and Mr Wesson he’s being very co-operative.”

Mr Wesson. Smith & Wesson. Jensen’s got a gun on Pileggi. Relief courses through Jared’s veins. “You gonna finish up with Pileggi?”

“Yeah. He left me lots of toys to play with,” there’s a pause and then Jensen adds, “might need a clean-up crew after all.”

Pileggi whimpers.

“We’ve got dinner with the Japanese tonight,” Jared reminds his boyfriend. “You won’t be late, will you?”

“Of course not,” Jensen says. “I’m gonna wear that new suit. The one you said makes me look like a hooker.”

Jared bites at his lip. “Well you look Goddamn fuckable in that suit. And I said _high end escort_ , not hooker.”

“Tomayto, tomahto.”

Jared huffs. “So you’re set? You don’t need anything else?”

Truth be told, Jared’s actually a little bummed that Jensen doesn’t need him to burst in, guns blazing, and rescue him. And he’d honestly been looking forward to watching the light go out in Pileggi’s eyes. Bastard. Touching _his_ Jensen. The thought makes him feel _insane_.

Jensen hmms. “Actually,” he says. “Maybe send Rachel too. I think she’d really enjoy spending some quality time with ol’ Mitch here.”

Rachel is every bit as good as Jensen at torture and interrogation. Pileggi is about to get a very up close and personal demonstration of all the ways in which his sexist, homophobic attitudes are wrong. It’s almost a shame he won’t live long enough to make use of his newfound knowledge.

“Will do,” Jared says. Then he hesitates briefly before deciding _fuck it_ and adding, “I love you.”

“I know,” Jensen replies solemnly and disconnects.

Jared laughs and then moves back over to the group, who’ve been discreetly giving him space.

“Is everything okay?” Hayashi asks.

“Yeah,” Jared nods. “Jensen just had to take care of some unexpected business, but everything’s fine. He’s looking forward to joining us for dinner.”

Jared knows he’s got a stupid, sappy smile on his face; Jensen always brings out the lovesick puppy in him. He brings out the possessive caveman in him too. Jared is definitely going to bend Jensen over and fuck him long and hard as soon as he sees him. Might even break out the flogger and show Jensen just exactly what he thinks of his boyfriend letting himself get kidnapped; putting Jared through all this worry.

Yeah, being this much in love with Jensen really does make him insane, but it’s a sweet insanity and Jared knows that neither of them would want it any other way.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

>  **Prompt:** I offered Amberdreams birthday fic and this is the prompt she gave me: “I don't know what you'd fancy writing but I'd love some hurt!Jensen. Like maybe a rival homophobic gang decide that hurting Jensen is the best way to hurt Jared and the Hellspawn. Or Jensen gets kidnapped either for ransom from his family, or some other reason. Or if that's too much, how about Jensen gets his Harley and takes Jared for a ride?”
> 
> Thanks Amber for so many delicious ideas! I hope you and everyone else enjoys where I took your prompt! :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Sweet Insanity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382424) by [stormbrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormbrite/pseuds/stormbrite)




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